


Towne Hardware & Supply

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Shopping, Telepathic Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles takes Erik out on an errand to a hardware store.  It's hard to be around shelf after shelf of metal tools and bits and bobs when you're all too aware that a couple buckets of ten-penny nails and a couple of sledgehammers, and you could probably rule the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towne Hardware & Supply

_Errands_ , Charles said a few moments ago, and wrapped an arm around Erik's neck to bring him along. Now Erik's standing in front of one of Charles's cars, in the garage, wondering why on Earth he needs to be a part of this.

"Don't you have people to do this sort of thing for you?" Erik asks, a little snide. Charles just smiles enigmatically and twirls the keys to his car in his hand; when they get out to the garage, Erik gestures, and the doors unlock obediently.

"Convenient," Charles says, eyeing the garage door. "Care to get that as well?"

As he slips into the car, Erik lifts the garage door, and when Charles has the car running and finishes backing out of the garage, he sets it back down, too. He even operates the gate when they reach it.

"I see. You just brought me along for menial labor."

"As if you mind serving me," Charles says, voice low and teasing, and Erik flushes red and looks out the passenger window. He doesn't flush any less when Charles accompanies the comment with a series of mental images, all collected from their experiences together: Erik on his knees in the wet suit, the night they met; Erik coming to Charles's room instead of leaving the compound; and then this morning, Erik held perfectly still with Charles's power as Charles sucked his cock at a pace that had Erik first screaming and then pleading with Charles to go faster-- silently, of course, the words only in Erik's mind and Charles's.

"Will I be carrying your parcels, then?" Erik asks, shifting in his seat. At least the drive into town is a long one; there's time enough for his erection to go down before they get there.

"I might let you," Charles allows. "You're better suited to it than I am."

Erik snorts. "You could spend more time exercising for your own sake instead of trying to train everyone else."

"Who has time?"

That's a question Erik can't argue. He sighs and looks at the scenery as they drive; trees, grass, houses growing closer together as they approach what passes for "town" here. Erik's been to smaller places, so he's not complaining about the size of it, but he wonders how long it's going to take before people start to wonder why, after all these years standing empty, the Xavier house now has a group of near-random individuals living in it, all from varying walks of life. He hopes they don't have to face that question anytime soon.

Charles pulls into the parking lot of a small hardware store and climbs out of the car; Erik follows him. It's not until they actually step inside that Erik gets the full force of the sensations, but Charles is there to brace him, his hand on Erik's shoulder.

 _Metal._ Everywhere.

Everything in the entire store seems to be calling to him, from buckets full of nails to sledgehammers to aluminum ladders and windvanes with silhouettes of roosters. There are hand saws and power tools; there are racks of screwdrivers and aisles full of door hardware, hinges, knobs, locks and keys.

"All right?" Charles asks. Erik glances over his shoulder and cuts into Charles with a glare. Charles just smiles. "I thought so."

«You're going to pay for this when we get home,» Erik sends out, slipping out of his jacket and holding it carefully-- and, he hopes, casually-- in front of him. It's a lost cause, really, he can't avoid it, he can only hide it. A simple hardware store, and all he can think of is what he could do with all the things inside it. He could probably take over a small country with four or five buckets of ten-penny nails. Throw in a gross of circular sawblades, and he could probably take over a larger country. No wonder he's hard.

Their shopping list is minimal-- a collection of tiny screwdrivers for Hank, a coil of wire and some picture hangers for Raven, and oh, what Erik could do with a five-hundred-foot length of steel wire-- a few other bits and pieces, everything fitting neatly into a medium-sized brown paper sack. Charles hands it over to Erik, and Erik glares at him again; it's not as though he can use both hands for this. Then again, it's not as though he has to. He puts one hand under the bag, purely for appearances' sake, and uses his power to hang onto the items inside.

Back at the car, Erik pops open the trunk without being asked and sets the hardware inside. He and Charles climb into the car, and Erik keeps his jacket over his lap, tipping his head back and taking a few deep breaths.

"I was going to ask if it was as good for you as it was for me, but..."

"...but no, it was so much better," Erik says. He licks his lips. "That was an incredibly dirty trick, Charles, I'm not forgiving you for this anytime soon."

"I thought you'd like it, but I didn't realize you'd like it quite that much," Charles says. Erik can hear the laughter in his voice, though thankfully he isn't laughing out loud, not just yet. "Really, Erik, a gross of circular sawblades and five buckets of ten-penny nails? An entire country?"

Of course. Of course Charles was listening in; he probably engineered this entire thing just to ride on Erik's sensations and feel the hot tug of all that metal on him. Erik pries one eye open and glances over at Charles, but his body's under control, relatively; he's not achingly hard, out of breath, and sweating. Not the way Erik is.

"Potential, Charles," Erik says hoarsely. "You of all people should recognize the eroticism of looking at something--" or someone, Charles proved that the night he met Erik-- "and seeing nothing but pure, raw, naked potential."

Charles lifts his hand to his temple, and Erik sits bolt upright, jerked into Charles's mind.

«I watched you every moment we were in there,» Charles tells him. «Every second. I felt the way you reached for everything, the hammers and the nails and even the toolchests. The doorknobs. The spools of cable. The chains, my God, Erik, the things you wanted to do with those chains, I'm amazed I didn't come in my pants.»

«Keep talking about this and I might,» Erik shoots back. «Can't you at least get us home before you start torturing me again?»

«Not right now,» Charles says, «I don't think I can drive when I'm this aroused.»

Erik looks over at Charles's lap. Still nothing, still no sign of physical arousal. But for Charles, the most erotic organ is the brain, anyway; sometimes Erik thinks Charles would rather set aside all these messy notions of physical bodies and sexual fluids and just do it all in the mind.

«Sometimes I would,» Charles admits. «Like now.» He projects an image, the gym at home, the two of them finished with a workout and sweating, and he reaches out for Erik in the image and shoves him into the wall.

Erik shakes his head minutely and takes hold of the image-- it's like putting his hands over Charles's and guiding him into painting an image. It feels awkward, once-removed, but Charles has said Erik's the only person he's ever known who could do it at all, shape a shared brainspace without simply telling Charles to do it. Erik's proud of that; he likes the idea that his strength can carry over even into the mental realm.

The image he draws now is of a storage shed, its shelves lined with tools and bits and pieces, nuts and bolts, a spool of chain, a bag full of twist-ties, each with their single metal filament. Outside, under the sun, Erik pushes Charles against the wall of the storage shed and holds him there, both hands pressed firmly to Charles's chest. This place might not actuallly exist on the Xavier grounds, but that hardly matters; this is fantasy, after all.

Inside the fantasy, Erik rubs firmly up against Charles, his cock a hard, serious demand, and the Charles he has pinned to the shed wall laughs. «I suppose I do have this coming. Go on. Do what you will, take your pleasure from me.»

Erik grins, broadly, so broadly, and the lock on the storage shed bangs open, chains flying off their spool and coming out to wrap around Charles's hands. Charles groans, groans a little more when the chains lift his arms above his head and just keep lifting, but now Erik has Charles just where he wants him, and he steps back, enjoying the view even if it's nothing but a fantasy.

«It's real enough for me,» Charles says. «Everything inside your mind is real enough for me, even all those things you never say...»

«The drawback to this,» Erik thinks, «is I can't gag you.»

The fantasy Charles gives Erik a cheeky grin. «Guess not.»

What Erik ought to do is come up with a way to do it regardless, or at the very least signify to Charles that he'd like Charles to stay quiet. But what he does instead is start stripping clothes off of Charles-- the bottom half of him, Erik strips completely, and the top half, he simply undoes all of Charles's buttons and leaves his shirt to hang loose against his chest. In the fantasy, Charles isn't wearing an undershirt; in the fantasy, this leaves Charles deliciously and incredibly exposed.

And so easy to position, thanks to those chains. Erik holds Charles in place with his power and uses his hands to unbuckle his own belt, slowly slipping the end of it through the buckle and moving on to the fly of his jeans. He could use his power for this, he could pop the button and unzip the fly with the barest flicker of thought, but in the fantasy, Charles is watching avidly, licking his lips as Erik makes his intentions clear.

Once Erik's cock is out, he gives it a few rough strokes. It's not like doing it himself, doing it to his own body-- it's better than it ever is in the real world, because Charles plays back the sensation of Erik touching himself and amplifies it until it's just at the point where Erik might not be able to bear it. Charles is a good judge of that, though. He's always been a good judge of where Erik's limits are.

«I want your legs around me,» Erik says, coming closer. «You know I'm going to fuck you; put your legs around my waist.» He comes closer and helps give Charles a boost, then pins Charles to the wall so he can hold him in position, just the right position. They've never done this in real life, but it doesn't matter; their imaginations blend together to make it work out perfectly-- probably a bit more perfectly than it would in real life, too, which is another advantage to doing it in their minds.

Erik reaches between them, gets his hand on his cock to hold himself in position, and he uses the chains to lower Charles an inch, and another inch, until Charles moans and rubs down against him, his body ready for Erik's cock.

Ready-- entirely ready; Erik laughs. «Added lubrication to the fantasy, I see.»

«I let you fuck me rarely enough, I might as well get the benefit of preparation.» Charles grins. «Go on, then.»

It's permission; it's an order. In Charles's mind, for something like this, the two are one and the same. Good enough for Erik, though (more than good-- Charles was right, earlier, when he said _as if you mind serving me_ ), so he carefully lowers Charles down and just as carefully presses himself in, and then Charles's legs tighten around his waist, and he's got Charles speared, pinned flat against the shed wall, open and held tight and completely at Erik's mercy.

«Do it,» Charles says, his voice a breathy whisper in Erik's head. «Do it, I can take it, I know how much you want it-- think of all those nails and all those sawblades--»

Erik shudders, hands clutching at Charles's waist. Just like that, Charles has him back in the hardware store, metal everywhere, surrounding him, almost choking him with possibility. Item after item, from the tiniest staple to the largest copper pipe, _everything_ , calling out _mold me bend me shape me break me_ as Erik walked down aisle after aisle.

«Bend me, break me,» Charles whispers, squirming down against Erik's cock. «Come on. Come on, Erik. You want to, you know you want to, all that metal, _yours_ , at your command--»

Erik braces his legs, standing a little further apart, and it's just the shift in position he needs. He slams into Charles, banging him against the wall, and Charles squeezes Erik's waist with his thighs, his arms tugging hard at the chain. «Damn this thing, I need to hold you, I need a grip on you, let it go.»

One more hard, jarring thrust, and then Erik holds Charles still, caught between the wall and his body. He loosens the chain, and Charles wraps his arms around Erik's shoulders, supporting himself and clinging all at the same time. «Go on. Do it.»

The scent of copper comes back to him, thick and bright and delicious; Charles fills Erik's mind with the thought of sucking on the end of one of those copper pipes, of watching _Charles_ suck on the end of one. Erik's thoughts lose all coherence, and he digs his teeth into Charles's shoulder, pounding into him, making it as rough and as fast as he can manage without dropping Charles on the ground.

But Charles doesn't want to go anywhere; his arms and legs get tighter and tighter around Erik, until his grip on Erik is every bit as firm as Erik's grip on him. He's grunting every time Erik shoves into him, his fingernails dig into Erik's back, and then-- to Erik's shock-- it's Charles who comes first, orgasm streaking from his thoughts in a sudden flash. The slight vibration to the fantasy makes Erik think that Charles wasn't expecting it to happen quite so quickly, either, which makes Erik grin and reach up to Charles's hair, grabbing it and pinning his head back against the wall.

«It wasn't just me, was it,» Erik thinks, speeding up now that he can afford to be selfish about it. «You loved every minute in that store, loved seeing me nearly lose myself to it, loved the way those shelves screamed _power_ to me...»

«--yes,» Charles tells him, «yes, yes, yes, _God_ , yes,» and whether it's _yes_ to the questions or _yes_ to the way Erik's fucking him, driving into him like he wants to fuck him not just into but _through_ that wall, the lust and enthusiasm and need come through all the same. «I wanted,» Charles thinks, «wanted to share it, wanted to see you-- you're so beautiful like that, all that strength, and yes, your power, love that too, Erik, _Erik_ \--»

He's going to go over again, Erik realizes; Charles is going to go over again, just from the memory of watching and feeling Erik in the store. A surge of affection comes up in Erik-- that Charles can want him this much, that Charles finds Erik's power so thrilling when he's so powerful himself, that the two of them together can weave fantasies like this around each other and fall into them like they're more real than the world outside their heads--

One more thrust, and another, and then Charles is scrambling for purchase on his shoulders while he's coming again, and thank God, _thank God_. Erik knows he couldn't have held out, knows that he couldn't have lasted any longer than this-- _this oh God this_ , his real body a dim sensation that jerks and spasms and leaves his trousers a sticky mess, while his mind is ablaze with the heat and weight of Charles on him, the bright and salty scent of Charles's come, his own mind-orgasm blotting out everything else. There's nothing left but the need to be here, to drive into Charles over and over again... all that, and the sweet satisfaction of surrendering himself to Charles's devious plan, Charles's eager telepathic lust.

The fantasy starts slipping away as he comes down from it all, and back in the car, his chest heaves as he catches his breath. He blinks slowly to clear his vision; his jacket is still draped over his lap, which is a mercy, and according to the dashboard clock, it's been only a couple of minutes since they got to the car. As for Charles, his trousers are clean, or at least they look clean right now. Admirable control, Erik must admit. Charles opens his eyes and smiles at Erik, his lips glossy and a little swollen-- maybe he was biting them again, he's done that during shared fantasies before. Or maybe they just look that way today, red and soft and beckoning Erik to kiss them.

He doesn't, of course, not in the car. Not in public. But he thinks about it very, very hard, as Charles turns the key in the ignition and gets the car started again.

"I'm not certain any of those things we bought were desperately needed," Erik says.

"No, I think what was desperately needed was-- something else," Charles says, grinning at him. "You're not going to disagree, are you?"

Erik shifts in his seat a little more. "I'm not," he admits. "Would you at least agree to give me some warning the next time you plan on taking me to a hardware store? I might have chosen something that would--" he gives a rueful look to his crotch, "dry a bit faster."

Charles reaches across the back of the front seat, arm draped across Erik's shoulders, as he puts the car into reverse and backs out of his parking space. "All right," he says, letting his hand linger on Erik's shoulder, trailing away with a caress as he turns to face forward again. "I promise to give you some warning." He shoots Erik a quick grin. "I bought a box of stainless steel ball bearings. They're not for the house, they're for us. I was hoping you could think of some interesting uses to put them to."

It seems impossible to Erik that he could be getting hard again after today, but his cock twitches, and he reaches under his jacket to adjust himself. "You don't say," he murmurs. "I'll have to consider the matter. I'm sure I'll come up with something."

"I can't wait," Charles says, and he starts them on their way home.

 _-end-_


End file.
